Hops in the Right Direction: Setting an Example

There is only so much awareness I can raise about tripods through this blog and Facebook and the like.  It becomes a lot more effective in person.

A lot of people I come across when I'm out with Prada have little or no experience with dogs with altered mobility.  And because Prada is so fluffy, most don't even notice at first the blank space where her leg would be.  This actually is a good thing, because then they see her first as a dog, and not as "disabled."

I always try to be open for questions, since so many people are curious.  You'd be surprised how many people will ask if you give them the chance.  What happened, how she gets around, whatever.  I try to answer as honestly as possible.  I especially like it when kids ask, because they'll ask anything.  One day this summer, a little boy who lives nearby finally worked up the courage to run up to me and ask all in a rush, "Does she have a hole where her leg was?!"  So I showed him Prada's scar and let him touch it, so he could see it doesn't hurt her at all.  Hopefully, the experience will help him grow up to see a dog with altered mobility as a dog that's a bit different, but not "less than a dog."

I also recently had a friend tell me that he'd always thought tripods couldn't possibly have as good a quality of life as fully-mobile dogs, and assumed it would be kinder to euthanize such a dog.  After meeting Prada and seeing what a happy girl she is, he could see it's not as black and white as that.

Having any dog is a social experience--people love to meet and greet the dogs they come across--but having a tripod means I have the opportunity not just to meet new people or an excuse to chat with neighbors, but also to show how balanced and normal life with an extra-ordinary pet can be.

It's My Two Hundred and Onest Post!

I woke up this morning with my cat's face so close, I could feel her breath on my eyelashes.

In other news, did you know Monday's post was my 200th?  Yeah, me neither.  But to all four of you who follow me, and have stuck around for the ride, thank you.

I started this blog because I'd recently adopted a three-legged puff of hair, and I wanted to do my part to raise awareness about how awesome dogs are, altered mobility or no.  I still try to do that with my "Hops in the Right Direction" series, but those are never my most popular posts.  That's okay.  You're stuck with it.

By far and away, my most popular post has been The Hunger Games and Nazi Germany: Visual Metaphor in the Film and Why It Works.  It's the post that got me a call-out from Neil Howe, who's kind of a hero of mine.  It's the post that made the first page of a Google search, and it's still the first for the search "Hunger Games Nazi Germany" (because I Google things that might bring up my blog like other people stalk their exes on Facebook).  Clearly I posted that on a good day.

I've also posted about a particularly bad day.  I forget what made it bad, but the hits on the post sure make me smile now.

I've given fashion advice and dating advice.  I've given more unsolicited reading advice than anyone probably ever wanted, but who cares?  Ian Beck, author extraordinaire, commented on my review!  (Which renders your complaints invalid, by the way.)

AND I gave away free copies of the world's most disturbing pinup calendar.  You know.  For charity.

All in all, it's been an amazing ride.  Thanks for sharing it with me.

Ready for the next leg of this road trip?

(Yes, that was a tripod joke.)

(Sorry.)


(True:  You guys are the best.  You're a little strange, but you're my favorite kind of strange.)

But At Least I Ordered Great Pizza.

My parents came down for the weekend, which was awesome.  Unfortunately for them, they crashed at my place.

My building has the old fashioned cast iron radiators that occasionally make a rattling sound if there is air in the pipes.  On Saturday night, there was not air in the pipes.  There was an entire steel drum band made up of people with no rhythm on crack, and I thought we were all going to die.  (We didn't die, as it turned out.  We just didn't sleep.)

And Sunday, I locked myself out of my apartment while heading downstairs to let in my parents, who had locked themselves out of the building.

It's a really good thing that people aren't rated for their hosting skills on Yelp the way hotels are. 


(True:  My parents surprised me with bookshelves this weekend.  I officially have the coolest parents ever.)

Fast Times at a School That Would Probably Not Prefer to Be Associated With This Blog

A good friend of mine from high school is having a baby in the not-too-distant future (ha, what else could it be?  Twenty years?), and it's got me remembering stuff.  So, join me on a walk down memory lane--if you dare.

I went to private high school.  Most of the students boarded, but there were a few of us "day students" who lived close enough to not have to live on campus.  We had our own lounge, and off that lounge was a small glass room nicknamed "the cubicle," which was just down the hall from the locker rooms assigned to the day students.  The cubicle had enough room for about four people comfortably, but we usually crammed about eight in there.  That's the boring part.

The interesting stuff is what we witnessed, safe on our side of the glass.  We saw break ups, make-ups, and make-outs.  We saw drama on a level that just isn't possible anywhere but a high school where most of the students live together (with teachers!) with no access to cars.

On one memorable occasion, however, the drama breached our safety glass.

A teacher stormed down the hall, coming from the boys' locker room, and slammed open the cubicle door.

"Who has been misusing their genitalia?!"

I honestly don't recall a single other time when all of us were simultaneously silent.  Cue astonishment and absolute confusion.

Eventually we figured it out:  someone in the boy's room missed the urinal.  Which was disgusting, but not nearly as bad as we had originally assumed.  Even better, none of us were guilty of the transgression--not this one, anyway.

But I do remember thinking, This is high school.  Those of us who aren't wish we were.


(True:  It was a special sort of high school I went to.  After I graduated and was legal to drink, I got conned into playing poker with my old high school teachers.  They got me drunk and won away all my money.  But I got an A for effort.)

Hops in the Right Direction: Worth It

Every person I've ever spoken to who has adopted a special needs pet has never regetted it.  I have never once heard, "I love my pet, but if I had the chance to do it over again, I'd get a different one because it's just not worth it."

Because it is.

Owning any pet is good for your health, but there is something special about special dogs.  Something in how much they love you that makes you think, "How could someone not love you back?"  Something in how much they love life that makes you think, "How could someone think you aren't as deserving?"  Something in how plain old happy they are, even though they face something that we might let ruin our life, if it were us instead, and it's an inspiration.

Today is Change a Pet's Life Day, but the truth is, pets change our lives for the better.

So go ahead.  Be selfish.  Adopt.

Not the Phone You're Looking For

I went to a private high school, and I was one of the select few allowed a key to the elevator for some boring health blah, blah, blah.

Like most elevators, this one had an emergency phone.

Unlike most elevators, this one's phone was listed in the phone book.

So it wasn't uncommon for me to answer the phone and chat with some poor parent looking for information on admissions.  Fortunately for them, I worked part-time in the admissions office and could direct them to the right number.  Unfortunately, I graduated some years ago and am no longer available for that service...


(True:  You know the kind of luck I have?  The kind where I drop the key to the elevator down the elevator shaft.  Luckily, I knew rescuing-type people.)

Well, That's Just Embarrassing...

I work in the commercial lighting industry.  Friday, I quoted this fixture, and the photo they used to market it, well, I'd post it here, but it's probably NSFW.

That's right--a website I frequently use for work is not safe for work.

But here's the real mystery--is that photo proof that Spiderman is a hipster with a little too much affection for his web?

And who the hell thought, You know what will sell this light fixture?  A skinny, hairy, naked guy in the fetal position.


(True:  In a testament to how awesome my supervisor is, when she saw the web page I'd accidentally-on-purpose pulled up, she laughed and called over the rest of the department to come see.)